


Perihelion

by Ashayavar



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Character Death, M/M, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-06-13
Packaged: 2017-11-07 16:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashayavar/pseuds/Ashayavar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has no use for a sniper who can’t follow orders. Unfortunately, you don't just walk away from Jim Moriarty’s inner circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perihelion

**Author's Note:**

> Kinkmeme prompt: http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/18842.html?thread=113350042#t113350042  
> Not yet beta'd or britpicked, so if you'd like to volunteer I'd be grateful. :)

Sebastian’s forehead rests on his arm against the window as he stares out at the fading daylight. The sun has already set. Night’s about to fall. He senses rather than hears the man behind him.

“You know what happens next,” says Jim calmly. Sebastian doesn’t think he imagines the hint of regret in his voice.

“Yeah,” he answers quietly. He knows.

He'd been given one job: shoot the bastard when given the signal. Easy. The guy hadn't even realized he’d been invited to his own execution. Seb had watched from afar as the two men talked business.

It was over before Seb had time to process what happened. The man pulled a gun and aimed it at Jim’s face. Without pausing to think, Sebastian fired, and the target crumpled. For a few seconds the world stood still as he watched blood pooling around the figure on the floor through his scope. He didn’t look at Jim, didn’t want to see the anger and disappointment in his face. A moment later his phone chimed: an order home. He let out a long sigh of resignation before packing his rifle with shaking hands.

He knows he’s in trouble, because Jim has no use for a sniper who can’t follow orders. He has to let him go, and Seb understands. Unfortunately, you don't just walk away from Jim Moriarty’s inner circle. He’s seen this happen before, knows the drill. Jim doesn’t forgive, doesn’t show mercy, nor does he make exceptions.

He considers asking whether it would mean anything if he promised not to do it again, but that would feel too much like begging. Sebastian doesn’t do begging.

But he does do last requests.

“What d’you think?” he asks, able to keep his tone somewhat conversational, though he's still not making eye contact. “One more for old times’ sake?”

Jim moves closer, and Seb knows he’s considering. He turns to look at last. Yes, definitely a hint of regret there, he notes with some satisfaction. These are Jim's own rules, and he has to follow them. To deviate now would put a crack in the foundation of his perfect system. But that doesn’t mean he can’t indulge.

Seb waits until Jim nods before cupping his chin and bringing their lips together. The kiss is hungry and brutal even by their standards. It isn’t long before Jim takes control and forces the taller man onto the bed with ease, onto sheets already stained with their blood, sweat and come.

Jim’s teeth break the skin of his lip, drawing blood which he laps up with his tongue. He's grinding their hips together and Sebastian groans as he forces the expensive jacket from his boss's shoulders, tossing it carelessly aside. Experienced hands fly over the buttons of Jim's shirt and it soon becomes a heap on the floor as well, followed swiftly by his own. When the Jim goes to work on his trousers, Seb takes advantage of the distraction to press his lips to the bare expanse of Jim’s neck. He’s licking, sucking, biting hard enough to leave deep purple bruises. Fingernails scratch their way down his back. They are physical reminders, meant to outlive him. He takes immense pleasure in feeling the aborted moan vibrate against his lips. _You won’t forget me._

When all his clothes are on the floor he hears the bottle of lube snap open. A moment later rough, slick fingers push their way inside him. He groans and arches into the sensation. Jim says nothing as he works him open with startling efficiency, fucking him so perfectly that Seb is almost writhing under his touch. Then the fingers are gone and a moment later Jim has shoved deep inside him in one, swift motion. He hisses, but the pain is welcome; it drowns out thought and fear and emotion. His world has narrowed to the slow burn that gives way almost at once to pleasure as Jim strikes up a quick rhythm.

He holds nothing back, and Sebastian’s glad of it. This, like everything else, isn’t meant to last. Too long and his mind would wander, begin to regret the things he’s never done. Maybe even regret meeting this wild, insane, completely brilliant man who strolled right into his life and slipped deep beneath his skin. He doesn't want time to wonder what he’d be without that guiding hand, moulding him like soft clay, rearranging his insides and shaping him into everything that he is. Some things are more precious than life itself.

That hand now wraps around him, pulling and twisting, while Jim angles himself just right so that each thrust sends fire through his veins. No words pass between them. There is nothing intelligible amid the strangled noises that escape Sebastian’s lips. Anything he could say would sound too much like “goodbye”. Instead he stares into eyes that look black in the fading light. They’re cold, yet the man above him radiates heat like the sun. Sebastian is trapped in a decaying orbit, spiraling downward with no desire to change course even to save himself from burning.

He’s rocking in time to Jim’s movements. The constant slide and pull of his fingers send small electric shocks through Seb's body and propel him toward the edge of oblivion. He feels his heart pounding, the desperate rush of air in and out of his lungs on each breath, the sweat beading on his skin. He’s never felt so aware of his own body. He’s never felt so _alive_.

And then he comes, and for the stretch of an instant nothing exists but the sensation of Jim filling him, Jim’s hands on his body. It’s Jim's heat and scent surrounding him. It’s a cry of “Jim” on his lips and the voice that answers, whispering Sebastian’s name, low and almost desperate, into his ear.

It crashes over him like a wave and then subsides. He barely has time to feel drained, to meet cold reality as it rushes to fill the void in his mind, when he catches a glint of silver. A moment later there is a searing pain in his neck. He gasps as his own hot blood spills between them, coating their bare chests and soaking into the bed.

Jim takes little notice as he sits beside him, dropping the knife and tucking himself back into his ruined trousers. Then he slides over and gently, so very gently, cradles Sebastian’s head in his lap.

“I warned you,” he murmurs. “I told you not to get too close.”

Sebastian hates the disappointment in his voice. “Sorry, boss,” he chokes, unsure whether Jim can understand him. His breathing comes in small, ragged gasps. He’s growing dizzy, light-headed, feeling more and more disconnected from the dimly-lit bedroom and the arms holding him. His body is growing cold, but Jim’s fingers are warm when they reach down and tangle with his. Seb holds on, grasping the hand that’s killed him as though it’s a lifeline.

He stares up into Jim’s face, and can see how his features have changed. Now that the deed is done and there’s nothing left to do but wait for Seb's body to fail, he looks regretful, almost sad. And for a moment, Sebastian feels a fierce pride, sure he’s the only one Jim Moriarty has ever looked at like that. His lips twitch in a small smile as the darkness closes in. “You can’t forget me.”

Then he’s nowhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Perihelion: the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid or comet where it is nearest to the sun.


End file.
